Hold On
by fatedtopretendd
Summary: "It's been just over seven months since they broke up. That's too long." Ryan/Marissa. Berkeley. One-shot.


**A/N: Sorry there's no update on Fresh Starts, but here's a new one-shot instead.**

/

He has never had trouble moving on from girls. Give him a week, and he'll be over it. Over the girl anyway, maybe not over his abandonment issues.

That was until Marissa. With her, he's stuck.

* * *

It's a cold November night when it first happens.

He insists on walking her back to her dorm. It's too late for her to be out alone, he tells her. She laughs and teases him for being too protective but lets him anyway.

Ten minutes later when they get to her room, she invites him in for coffee to sober up after the party. She informs him that drunk walking is actually more dangerous than drunk driving. It's one a.m., he should go home, yet he accepts the offer.

It's not like they intend for anything to happen. Everything till then had been innocent; walking her home, inviting him in. He plans to drink the coffee, sit and talk for a bit, and then go. They haven't really had a chance for a proper catch-up since they arrived on campus. Both of them too busy with new classes, new friends, new lives. He misses her, but he doesn't think he misses her in _that _way.

He sits down on the sofa and she joins him with two cups of coffee. He notices how her cheeks have gone flush from moving from the cold outdoors to the warmth indoors.

"What?" she asks shyly when she notices he's staring. She blushes ever more.

"Nothing," he says. He can't help but smile, or tear his eyes away.

He notices they're sitting awfully close and does nothing about it. Instead he asks her what she thinks of Berkeley. She leans back, takes a long sip of her coffee and then tells him it's really good. He asks her if she means 'really good' or '_really_ good' and she tells him that Seth's really rubbed off on him. She still humours him and answers that it's _really_ good. He places his arm on the back of the sofa, so that it is behind her. It's not romantic or anything; he's just getting comfortable.

They quickly end up talking about Newport, reminiscing about the relentless gossip, the Newpsie parties which always dragged. He mentions the Harbour events she planned and admits he was always crazily impressed by what she managed to do. She laughs the compliment of, saying she had a lot of help. Taylor hadn't completely been lying about that. Before he can think about it, he's telling her that Newport isn't all bad. He flashes her this boyish grin and they're both thinking about breakfasts in the diner, kisses sneaked at parties and nights spent in the poolhouse. Her eyes fall to his lips, he leans in just slightly and suddenly, they're too close. It's been just over seven months since they broke up. _That's too long._

He kisses her and hears her moan into his mouth. He moves his hand to the back of her head, grasping at her hair, and pulls her closer to him. Their tongues slip together and she tastes of coffee. It reminds him of kissing her in the morning. Her legs wrap around his waist and his rights hand slips down to steady them.

"Are you sure?" he hears himself asking.

"Yes," she replies immediately and his right hand moves up underneath her shirt. "God, yes," she tells him.

* * *

They agree that it meant nothing. It was a blip, an error in judgement, an inevitability given their history. They just need to be more careful from now on, he jokes that they shouldn't be left unsupervised.

Christmas comes and nothing happens. She's preoccupied by Jimmy's visit and Seth won't leave him alone, except when Summer comes over. Then there's only _one_ thing on his mind. When the Cooper's are over for Christmas lunch, it's on his mind too.

But New Years is a different story to Christmas. The holiday is far too entrenched in their history. Somehow, he allows Seth to drag him to a party. Seth doesn't particularly want to go either but Summer does and he's definitely not going to say no to her in the short time she's back from Brown. Seth pleads with him that if he doesn't come, he'll have no one to talk to but at the party, he spends all his time making out with Summer. Ryan's tempted to tear them apart, it's sickening to watch really, and annoying that he's been forced into coming for no reason. He thinks about leaving but then he sees Marissa and he's compelled to stay.

It's easy talking to Marissa when there's no pressure to discuss the deep stuff, the emotions and letting each other in. He likes making her laugh, and she laughs often and too easily. He likes it when Marissa starts talking about a book she has read or a band she has discovered. He isn't interested in the subject in the same way Seth is, but she always gets so excited without even realising it and he has never not found that endearing. He spent last year watching a Marissa who was far too often forlorn and discontent; the girl before him now is breathtakingly carefree.

Midnight rolls up upon them. He watches her check her watch and when she sees it's close, she looks up and their eyes meet awkwardly. The countdown starts and her gaze is flighty, wondering what to do. He thinks, why not? Friends can share a kiss on New Years, right? And so what if they aren't proper friends? It would be one kiss and he can't help it. He _wants_ to kiss her. So, the clocks strikes midnight and there's a mass of noise around them. He leans in and kisses her. She's clearly not expecting it but it's seconds within she settles into it. They kiss for longer than they should because everyone around them has stopped. Somebody screams Happy New Year next to them and they pull themselves apart, embarrassment on both their faces. Their first reaction is to check if Seth and Summer saw them, luckily, the couple are still making-out. Both are unsure of what to do next. Ryan, who had been so assured minutes ago, now says a hurried goodbye. Walking away, towards Seth, he stops mid-way, turns, and says, "Happy New Year."

* * *

When they return to Berkeley, he spends his time trying to avoid her. He feels like a complete dick about it and hates himself for turning the other way everytime he sees her. But he kissed her and now he doesn't know what she thinks or what he wants. He asks himself if he wants her back and everything that encompasses. He answers no but she becomes all he thinks about. Other girls begin to pale in comparison, everytime he sees her he's drawn to her, wanting her. Past memories of kisses and long legs wrapped around his waist fill his mind both awake and asleep. He calls it a crush, then lust, straightforward desire but he has felt lust before and knows that it is not this complex.

It rains one day, so hard and persistently that it makes him nostalgic for Newport. He walks to his dorm in the rain, becoming soaked completely. He hears water splashing and then the sound of Marissa's voice calling out to him. He turns and sees her running after him, umbrella in hand.

"You're soaked," she points out unhappily.

"I forgot my umbrella."

She rolls her eyes and grumbles, "Typical. How do boys _never_ have one?"

"I'm sorry," he says defensively and he isn't sure why he's apologising. Maybe it's to make up for his other transgressions.

"C'mon, I'll walk you," she tells him and he immediately protests.

"No, it's fine. I'm already wet as it is."

"Ryan, you're going to catch a cold. Just please, can you not be stubborn for once?" She pouts at him and it's meant to be angry but she ends up looking childishly cute.

"Just this once," he replies with a smile. They walk in silence, both thinking about what the other is thinking and waiting for the silence to be broken. It is Marissa who takes the first step.

"About New Year's," she begins.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have," Ryan blurts out immediately.

"No, it's okay. I mean it was New Year's, things happen. I was just hoping that we could move on from it rather than, I don't know, hiding about it." Her words are faintly accusatory and he can tell she has noticed his absence.

"Yeah, yes, of course."

"It's just that it would suck if we were completely not friends. I don't know about you but -"

"It would suck," he finishes for her. He remembers her saying to him, with such open sadness, that maybe she meant nothing to him. He doesn't hesitate to set the possibility aside because through everything, she has always mattered. "And I'm sorry that I haven't really been around recently. I didn't know what to say to you."

"It's okay. I've been a little confused too. It doesn't exactly help that we keep making out," she comments with an awkward laugh.

"Yeah, we should probably stop doing that," he adds, offering her a goofy grin. They walk the rest of the way talking about classes and workloads. He realises once again that they are standing very close, huddled under one umbrella. When the wind blows, he can smell her signature perfume. Chanel No 5, he recalls.

They arrive at his building and he prepares to leave. He says thanks and she leans in for a slight hug. He should have just gone inside but instead, he watches her walk away. He sees the wind blow so hard that her umbrella is flipped inside out. Her hair is blowing everywhere and her perfectly dry state is getting ruined; she struggles with the umbrella and something about the sight makes him smile. And he's not sure why it's that moment, but he stops caring about the past and what's the right thing to do. All he can think is that few seconds ago, Marissa was standing next to him and now that she is gone, he is left missing her. He rushes over to where she is standing, umbrella only just successfully wrestled. She is utterly confused when she sees him.

"Ryan?"

"I don't want to," he pauses, unsure of how precisely to explain himself. "I don't want _this_ to stop," he tells her. She is silent, staring back at him with uncertain eyes. Then, she tilts her head and he has caught her in a kiss. Her umbrella slips out of her hand, drifting away, as she wraps her arms around his neck. They kiss in the pouring rain, and maybe they are acting on a lust-filled impulse, but the moment is perfectly romantic.

* * *

He holds her close to him, her bare back against his chest, his arms wrapped around her like that time in the motel.

"Talk to me," he says because sometime this quasi-relationship doesn't feel enough.

"What, as in talk dirty?" She laughs lightly and he chuckles.

"No, no, just, talk to me. Tell me something. What are you thinking?"

She goes silent and he feels her tense and then relax. She turns, so she's lying on her back. She glances at him and then returns to looking at the ceiling.

"I really thought," she begins. "The last time when we broke up, for a while there, I honestly thought, that might be the _last_ time. I thought, that was it."

He can see the faint sorrow in her eyes and he instinctively hugs her tighter. He wants to say sorry, that she was ever driven to such a thought. He wants to tell her never to think this again because how could they ever possibly be over? But, then he remembers the time after they broke-up. He remembers the despair and fatigue and thinking _never again_.

"I'm really glad that hasn't happened," he says and she laughs softly, but it isn't her signature one. It's laced with a cynicism or regret or sadness, something he can't define. She kisses him briefly and there's a smile on her face, which he does recognise. Then, she turns around again, her hand holding on to his and bringing it around her.

He wants to ask her more, wants to say more himself but he refrains. She does to. He can feel her not letting him in completely. He wants to know all her secrets. He thinks about a time when he used. He thinks, one day, he could tell her all of his.


End file.
